Making it Stop
by Nerdywife91
Summary: Sherlock finds himself unable to stop the whirlwind of his mind. He doesn't know why, but Molly always manages to help. She is more than willing, but what will it cost the two?
1. Her Idea

His mind had always been a nonstop machine. There were…things that helped calm his thoughts, but after his small stay as Shezza he promised to never touch them again.

It had been okay after his return to London. People were glad to have him back and there were loads of cases. After the news of his return had dissipated, there was John and Mary's wedding. That had kept his mind satisfied while the planning lasted.

Soon he was on to his next case which had meant committing to his undercover role much more than normal. There were months of planning and scheming all focused around keeping Mary and John safe. But that had been weeks ago. The cases now were mundane and nothing kept his mind satisfied.

It was now well past midnight and the streets of London were quiet. Sherlock wandered without direction and was surprised to look up and see Molly's flat. He found it even more surprising that her bedroom light was still on.

He walked up the steps to Molly's flat and knocked. It would have been a lie to say he didn't think twice about what he was doing, in fact his mind played out several scenarios as he stood there listening to the soft shuffles on the other side of the door. He winced as two awkward scenarios went through his head. He blinked them away as Molly opened the door.

"Sherlock?" She pushed her glasses up on her nose, pulling the blanket around her shoulders tighter. "Are you okay?"

He stared down at her, trying to fight through the emotions that where trying to flood his brain.

"Come in." She pulled him inside by his elbow. "Take your shoes off – they are covered in mud."

He did so as she went to make them some tea. He hung his coat up and sat in the middle of the couch. He debated his choice of seat for a moment. He knew Molly had been sitting, more snuggled into, the corner of the couch. It was her favorite spot and had the best lightening for reading. He really could have sat in one of the chairs or at the other end of the couch, giving her room, but he pushed the thought out of his head and concentrated hard on the sounds of Molly in the kitchen.

"Here." She walked back in and handed him a cup. She didn't think twice before curling back up into the corner of the couch, her knees touching his. He stared down at their knees while she sipped on her tea quietly for a few minutes. "Sherlock?" He looked up meeting her questioning eyes. "Are you okay?"

"It never really stops." She nodded, understanding what he meant. "I couldn't sleep."

"Me neither." She patted his hand. He reached out with his other hand and held her hand between the two of his.

"It stops when I'm here." He whispered.

"What…what kind of things?" He shook his at her words and Molly frowned down at their hands.

"Are you ever going to let me in?" Sherlock looked at her, but she wouldn't meet his gaze. He raised his top hand to her chin and lifted her gaze up to his.

"Molly." She leaned over and pressed her lips to his, stopping his words and to his relief the whirlwind that kept blowing in his mind. But it was over all too quickly when she sat back taking her hand with her and wrapping her arms around her knees.

"Maybe you should go." She whispered as she pulled her knees tighter to her chest. Sherlock moved to stand up, but stilled and then settled back into the couch. She brought her eyes back up to his as he reached over and took her hand back in his.

"May I stay?" Molly nodded numbly at his question.

Sherlock kept Molly's hand in his as he folded his legs under himself and turned to face her. He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. She slowly lowered her knees down against his and watched him as he studied her face.

He raised his top hand to her face, cupping her cheek as he ran his thumb along her bottom lip and then her top lip. He gave her a small smile as he felt her breath on his thumb. He titled his head thinking about how his head had stilled in the brief moment Molly's lips had been on his. He leaned in closer and gently pulled her face to his.

She returned the pressure on his lips and even risked lacing her fingers with his in the hand that still held hers. He tightened his grip on her hand and sucked her bottom lip in between his teeth. He froze as she moaned against his lips and reached her other hand up into his curls.

Sherlock let go of her and sat up. Molly's hand still hung in the air as she stared at him, her mouth gaping opening, lips red, and pupils blown. She finally dropped her hand into her lap and sat back against the arm of the couch.

He stared back at her, his hair ruffled, and pupils blown just a far as Molly's.

"I have to go." He stood up quickly, throwing his coat on, and grabbing his shoes before closing the door quietly behind him.

* * *

His mind was still humming when he got back to Baker Street, yet he didn't seem to mind it so much now. It wasn't the normal everyday clutter and thoughts he was going through. As he threw himself on his bed, he began to catalog the evening's events.

It hadn't been his idea to kiss her. He knew that. She knew that. They both knew it was her idea. But after she had planted that idea in his head he had had to know. He needed to know what it would feel like for his mind to be completely blank for more than just mere seconds. He needed to know more about the way her lips fit against his. He simply needed to know.

That was what he was chalking it up to. His _need _to know – curiosity. That was all it had been. That and the want for silence. Curiosity and peace. That was all it was.

Yet, he couldn't figure out why his hands felt slightly empty now, as if they were carving her hand and face. No. It had been curiosity. It had been for…_scientific_ reasons. An experiment, if you will. That was it. The data was in and the exploring was done. Yes, it was nice to have a quiet mind.

* * *

Sherlock woke the next morning to a phone call from Lestrade. There was a double homicide with zero leads.

"Do you think you could take a look?"

"I'll be there in forty minutes." Sherlock barely let Lestrade finish before confirming. He texted John to meet him at the scene and then he took a shower, completely forgetting the incident from the night before.

* * *

"It's not a double homicide." Sherlock called as he squatted near the bodies.

"What do you mean it's not a double homicide?!" Lestrade almost chuckled. "There are _two _dead bodies!" He clapped Sherlock on the shoulder.

"This one killed this one." Sherlock pointed to the bodies. "There was a struggle." He said as he stood up. "But not much – the first murderer was killed by someone very close to him."

"Perfect!" Lestrade groaned. "We are going to have these bodies taken to Bart's. If anything strange pops up in the reports I will have Molly text you." Sherlock nodded and set about to make his way through the list of close family and friends of the victims.

* * *

"Why has she not responded!?" Sherlock groaned as he traced a path in 221B's living room. "I need to know if they have these tattoos or not!" He plopped down in his chair and picked up a photo of the tattoos in question.

"Calm down." John shook his head from his chair where he was sitting reading the newspaper. "She is probably busy with the autopsies."

"Right!" Sherlock jumped up and grabbed his coat.

"Where are you going?" John turned to stare at him over his shoulder.

"Bart's." He stuffed the picture into his coat pocket and started down the stairs. "Come on John!" He called back.

* * *

"I am just about…oh!" Molly looked up and stopped in surprise as Sherlock and John entered the morgue. "I thought you were Lestrade." Sherlock tried not to notice the red that was rising on her cheeks – a very agreeable color for her.

"No, because this man here couldn't wait for you to text him back." John glared at Sherlock, who didn't seem to notice.

"It's fine!" Molly practically shouted at the pair. She cleared her throat and gave them a small smile. "I just finished with that body. There was nothing special about it." She moved around to the opposite side of the table and lifted the right arm of the corpse she was working on. "But this body – "

"Has a tattoo." Sherlock gave John a self-satisfied smirk.

"Yes." Molly blinked at him a few times. "I don't know why I am ever shocked."

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something but snapped it closed and smiled at Molly.

"I am guessing that you have seen it before?" She gestured to the tattoo that was tattooed on the side of the man's ribs.

"Yes." Sherlock pulled the picture out and handed it to Molly. He pulled on a glove and examined the man's tattoo as Molly looked over the picture.

"What is it?" John asked.

"Not sure yet." Sherlock mumbled as he pulled on the skin around the tattoo. He stood up and pulled the glove off. "I have seen this symbol several times in the past few months, but I have no leads as to where it comes from." He frowned and turned to throw away the glove, slamming into Molly.

Molly let out a small squeak from the impact and Sherlock had to grab her shoulders to stop her from being body slammed across the room.

He stared down at the small woman in his arms noticing how little of the brown could be seen in her eyes any more. He had the strong urge to press his lips to hers again. Had John not been there, he would have. Instead he set her up on her feet properly.

"Molly." He gave her a tight smile and disappeared out of the morgue, his coat tails flapping behind him, with John trying to keep up.


	2. His Idea

"What was that?" John asked as they rode back to Baker Street.

"Our case just became very interesting."

"No. Not with the case." Sherlock turned, giving John a questioning look. "With Molly."

"Molly?" He wrinkled his nose. John just shrugged and turned to look out the window. Sherlock stared at the back of his head. He hadn't said a word. John had been across the room – it would have been simply impossible for John to have seen her (their) dilated pupils. "What do you mean, with Molly?" John just shrugged again. "What do you mean _with Molly_?!"

John turned to him, frowning.

"That thing between Molly and you."

"There was no _thing_ between us." Sherlock answered shortly. John smirked at him and turned to look back out the window, muttering softly,

"I must not observe as well as you."

* * *

John had gone home hours ago and every lead Sherlock had found that night had run dry. He needed access to Mycroft's computers but there was no way his brother would let him set foot inside his house at this time of night. It was just past ten and his mind was still in over drive.

He sat plucking on his violin stings, thinking. He wasn't sure when images of Molly started popping up in his mind and was even more surprised when he realized he had been sorting the memories in a qualitative manor. He pushed her face to the back of his mind and tried focusing on other things.

The swirling black hole that appeared in the absence of her face had been what caused Sherlock to go for a walk the night before and was threating to push him over the edge. He grabbed his mobile and sent a text to Molly.

_Are you up? – Sherlock_

_Yes. Why? – Molly_

_I'm coming over. – Sherlock_

He didn't wait for a reply as he grabbed his coat and headed down the stairs and out the door. He hailed a cab and told the cabbie Molly's address as if it was his own.

_Okay. – Molly_

_Is there something wrong? – Molly_

_Sherlock? – Molly_

He ignored her last texts and turned the mobile over and over in his hands as he waited impatiently. When the cab stopped he threw the fair at the driver and ran up the stairs to Molly's flat. He knocked once and the door was opened.

"Molly." He said as he brushed past her and into the living room. He draped his coat over the edge of the chair and left his shoes by the door. He turned to Molly who was staring at him, trying to gage him.

"I made tea." She said looking down. She moved around him and sat on the couch, pulling a blanket around her shoulders. He noticed the tea things on the table and nodded at her. He poured them each a cup and handed Molly hers.

"Of course." She rolled her eyes as she sipped on it. "It's perfect." No one had ever been able to make her tea perfectly, until now.

"Yes." He said as he sat across from her in one of the chairs. They drank their tea in silence until they each had finished their cups.

Sherlock couldn't take his eyes off of Molly nor did he truly care to. He watched as she fidgeted under his stare and enjoyed when she nibbled on her bottom lip unconsciously. He observed her until she sat down her cup and looked him square in the eye.

"Sherlock, are you okay?"

"Yes." He squinted at her, not quite understanding.

"Not that I mind…but why are you here?" He nodded at her words again and set his empty cup down.

"I need a distraction." He folded his hands in his lap.

"You needed it to stop." She said as if correcting him. He blinked at her, unable to correct her. "Why…why did you kiss me?"

"Why did you kiss me?" He retorted. She smiled down at her hands, him having bested her. "It was your idea."

"I suppose it was." Her smiled broadened. He found himself smiling back at her before clearing his throat. She looked up at him with an expectant stare.

"I would like to ask something of you." Sherlock shuffled his feet on the ground.

"Okay."

He dropped his gaze from hers and frowned, focusing his eyes on her lips.

"It never stops." She nodded, them already having this conversation. "I need it to stop." He turned away from her as he spoke. "You make it stop."

Sherlock watched from his peripheral as she stood up from her spot and walked over to him. He turned to watch her properly as she made a spot on the coffee table for herself and sat down in front of him.

"You already how I feel about helping you and " Molly's words were cut off as Sherlock pressed his lips to hers.

He inhaled through his nose at the relief that came to his mind. He sat back and sighed.

She reached up and pushed a curl out of his face, a small smile on her face.

"So what is this then?" She said giving her shoulders a little shrug.

Sherlock didn't want to label it. He wasn't sure what it was. He wasn't sure how he was feeling. All of that would mean going back into his own mind and he needed a break from the whirlwind.

Instead of answering, he took her hands in his and rubbed her knuckles with his thumbs. He leaned forward and captured her lips with his again, this time deepening the kiss when she moaned in response to his touch.

He let go of her hands and cradled her face, needing to secure her to him. She slowly threaded her fingers into his hair, sending a tingling sensation down his spine.

Molly pulled her lips away from his and rested her forehead against his, their hot breath mixing on each other's faces.

"Sherlock, what is this?" She asked again.

"I need….quiet." He slowly met her gaze, her brown eyes so close that he felt she could see his soul. "You give me that."

"What are you asking me then?" She dropped her hands back to her lap, and leaned away from him.

He hadn't thought about it long, just the cab ride over. He had imagined the many responses that she would give, all leading to him crawling back into the black abyss

"Molly." He locked eyes with her as she studied his face. He knew she could tell what he wanted, needed. He knew what it meant for her in the end and so did she. He knew what it was he was asking for, again, and how unfair he was being.

She sat up straight and tossed her hair off her shoulder. He watched as the look in her eyes changed and he knew what she was going to say, that moment three years ago etched into his mind.

"What do you need?"

"You."


	3. John's Suspicions

"Then you have me." She whispered as she reached over to squeeze his hand.

He studied her dilated eyes and knew his reflected hers. He dared to not think on it too long, afraid of the repercussions; instead he pulled her off the table and into his lap. He half expected her to let out a squeak, but she stayed silent and held his gaze.

"Are there rules that – " Sherlock held his finger against Molly's lips. She smirked at him and took hold of his hand, pulling it away from her face. "Is this another thing that is going to happen? You cutting me off in the middle of – " He kissed her again and she started giggling, breaking their faces apart.

"Probably." He said as he rested his chin on her shoulder, inhaling her sent.

"Good to know." She gave him a small kiss on his nose. "But, in all seriousness…Sherlock, are there rules?" He shifted under her weight, not liking the question.

"I don't know."

"I thought you didn't like not knowing." She gave him a half smile, as he frowned at her.

"It's the best I can come up with for now." He admitted. She nodded, understanding. He watched her, wondering what she was thinking.

"Okay." She finally responded. He poked her check with his nose, making her giggle.

"May I go back to kissing you now?" He whispered in her ear.

* * *

"Ahh!" Sherlock growled as he snapped Mycroft's computer closed.

"Do be more careful Sherlock." Mycroft reprimanded him and went back to his tea and paperwork.

"Didn't find anything helpful?" John asked cautiously. Sherlock glared at him and stood from his chair, buttoning his jacket. "Obviously not." John muttered as he stood.

"Going without a thank you?" Mycroft raised a brow as Sherlock neared his office door.

"Thanks." He said dryly in response and disappeared out the door, barely making out John's appropriate thank you.

"Oh, do walk faster!" John shouted as he ran to catch up with Sherlock who huffed and slowed a bit.

"The problem, John, is that I know that symbol is important."

"And?" John asked as Sherlock hailed a cab.

"I need to go to Bart's." He flung the door open.

"Alright." John stepped up to the cab and found the door slamming closed in his face.

"Alone…I'll text you if I get a lead."

* * *

The hallway to the morgue was rather quiet for midafternoon, but Sherlock reveled in it as he flung the doors to the morgue open. The silver room was empty but soft music was drifting from Molly's office. He smirked and turned on his heal heading to the small room.

"Sherlock." Molly smiled as she looked up.

"Molly." He nodded in return as he closed the door behind him, locking it.

"I was beginning to think you didn't like the arrangement." He shook his head a little in confusion. "It's been two days since we…talked." He moved in between her and the desk, sitting on her paper work, legs on either side of her knees.

"Thirty-Eight hours is not two days." He mumbled against her mouth. He held nothing back as he enjoyed the feeling of her teeth on his lips.

He broke away, surprising her. Her eyes were dark and lips swollen; he relished in the wild look on her face.

He stood and switched their places so Molly was sitting on the desk, her knees hugging his hips.

He tugged on her hair till most of it was falling out of her pony tail and shivered as she raked her fingers through his curls.

By the time he had good and thoroughly snogged the breath out of Molly, they both looked like crazed teenagers. He kissed her softly one last time and stepped back, brushing her hair behind her shoulder.

"Should probably redo that." He said clearing his throat. Molly nodded as she stood up and pulled down her skirt that had been hiked up halfway past her knees. She shook her head at Sherlock who shrugged at his own appearance.

"I can't let you out of this office looking like that." She brushed his curls back into place, and readjusted his shirt. "You know, I think that you – " Sherlock took her face in his hands again and placed a hesitant kiss on her lips. He let her face go and went to the door. He turned back to her and smiled warmly.

"Thank you Molly."

* * *

"What did you need at Bart's?" John asked as Sherlock practically skipped into 221b. He stared at the man now realizing that the look on his face was nothing more than what most people would call contentment. Sherlock was never content on a good day and ever further from it on a bad day. And according to his action's earlier in the day, this was a bad day.

"Molly's assistance." He said with almost a shrug. He slipped out of his coat and hung it next to the door. John was almost expecting Sherlock to start whistling as he went to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea.

"Are…" John coughed a bit on a chuckle, regaining his composure. "Are you smiling?" Sherlock stilled for a moment before turning on the kettle.

"How is Mary?" He asked as he set down two cups.

"Miserable." John frowned as Sherlock changed the subject. "Ready to have her own body back." Sherlock didn't reply as he tinkered with the tea things. "Sherlock, you didn't answer me."

"I hardly do."

* * *

_Are you going to be up? – Sherlock_

_Do you want me to be? – Mol_

_Yes. – Sherlock_

"What are you smiling about?" Mary asked, exasperated. John had told her in whispered gossip about Sherlock's utterly pleasant mood the day before and that he was sure a certain, tiny pathologist had something to do with it.

"When are you do?" He dropped the mobile in his lap and stared at her.

"Sherlock, do not change the subject on me – besides, you know when!" She huffed and rubbed her giant belly in effect. "As I was saying, what or _whom _are you smiling about?"

"Pushing into other's personal affairs, how very un-you." He rolled his eyes at her.

"Sherlock!" She threw a small pillow at him. "I will simply have to assume whom you are talking with."

"I have a pretty good assumption." John added as he walked into the room with a cup of warm milk for Mary.

"Do you two ever stay out of my life?" Sherlock groaned at them.

"Do you ever stay out of ours?" Mary asked, winking at him. "John." She reached her hand out for help up. "Not that I don't just _love_ spending time with you, Sherlock, but I need to change into something far more comfortable." She took her milk back from John and started to waddled her way to the bedroom. "Thank you for coming for dinner, even if you didn't eat."

"On a case." He replied.

John sat down in the chair Mary had just vacated and waited till she had closed the bedroom door.

"It's Molly isn't it?"

"What?" Sherlock scrunched his face up at him.

"Molly, she was the one you were texting earlier, wasn't she? And when you came back from Bart's yesterday, you were practically singing."

"Oh John, do be serious." Sherlock stood, tired of the conversation.

"_Maybe _not singing, but you were smiling." He was leaning forward in his chair, excited to have figured it out.

"People smile for all kinds of reason John." He slipped on his coat and made for the door.

"Where is your scarf?" John wondered before Sherlock could make his escape.

"It's not truly cold enough yet for a scarf, is it?" Sherlock practically mocked.

"Oh well, good thing it's getting to be late autumn then, isn't it?" He stood from his chair and walked over to the open door where Sherlock stood.

"And why would that be?" Sherlock sighed as he stepped outside.

"Because Molly is very fond of your scarf." John winked as he closed the door in Sherlock's face.


	4. Molly's Rules

"Are you fond of my scarf?" Sherlock asked as Molly opened the door for him. He didn't wait for her reply before entering her flat.

"Your scarf?" She asked as she closed her door and locked it. "What do you mean, am I fond of it?"

"John said you were fond of it." Sherlock sat down in what had been her seat and patted the spot next to him. She raised her eyebrow at him, but sat down anyways.

"Do you always believe what people tell you?" She nudged him with her elbow.

"So you aren't fond of it?" He mused over it as he took her hand in his and drew patterns on her palm. "Okay. I will have to inform John that he was wrong."

"Well, no." She giggled at him. "I am."

He stopped drawing and stared at her, unable to understand the situation. Why did she have to be so cryptic sometimes? She was the only one who was able to do so to him.

"John wasn't wrong; I do like how your scarf looks." Sherlock nodded at her words and turned his attention back to her palm.

His light touch was in complete contrast from yesterday's needy encounter that Molly had to remind herself that it was the same man. Seeing Sherlock's different sides was something that Molly was going to have to get used to.

She could tell he was thinking over something and giggled a bit. He gave her a sideways look.

"I'm sorry, it's just…isn't this supposed to be where you come to not think?" She asked as she snuggled into the couch.

"Yes, but I was simply trying to make this arrangement more enjoyable for you." He pursed his lips at her. She shook her head at him.

"Do you honestly think I don't enjoy this?" Sherlock didn't answer her. "I enjoy this very much…probably more than I should." She added, mumbling.

* * *

"I thought you might want to see this." Lestrade held up the tape for Sherlock and John to step under. "Has the same tattoo you found last week."

Sherlock only hummed in response and squatted down to study the body. He only half listened to John and Lestrade's conversation.

"Has he discovered the origin of the tattoo yet?"

"No."

"No?" Lestrade shook his head in disbelief. "It's been a week since we discovered the first two bodies!" Lestrade was taken back.

"Oh I know."

"Shouldn't he be wearing at least five patches at this point?"

"He does seem rather calm about the whole thing." John frowned at the detective. "I am not sure what to make of it…except that our Miss Hooper has something to do with it."

Lestrade made a loud noise at the back of his throat.

"Hooper? Molly Hooper?"

"Oh yes!" John gave a smug smile.

Sherlock turned his head toward the two and frowned deeply.

"If you two are quite done with whatever foolish conversation you are having," The two rolled their eyes at him. "This is a fake." Sherlock said standing up.

"A fake? Can't be!" Lestrade practically jumped around the crime scene.

"It can be." Sherlock said ducking back under the tape.

"But how?" John furrowed his borrow.

"The question is not how, but why." Sherlock made his way back to the main street.

* * *

_Come over. – Sherlock_

_Now? – Molly_

_Yes. – Sherlock_

_Okay. – Molly_

"You could at least ask." Molly said as she shut the door to his flat.

"You're here, aren't you?" Sherlock smirked as he set down the newspaper. She simply shook her head at him as she hung up her coat and slipped out of her shoes.

She stood facing him, avoiding eye contact while she fiddled with her hands. She wore an oversized grey sweater with her hair fanned out over her shoulders. Sherlock had the urge to make the three strides across the room and rake his hands through her hair, eliciting the moan he had grown so found of hearing.

"Sherlock." Molly's voice broke him out of his trance.

"Mhm?" He asked clearing his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"You said you had no rules." She pushed her hair behind her ear.

"Correct." He nodded. She opened her mouth, but soon closed it again and moved to John's chair, folding her legs up under her. "Molly, please do spit it out." He said in as endearing a voice as he could.

"I have two rules." She folded her hands neatly in her lap and sat up straight. "One, either one of us can stop this whenever we need to." He nodded in agreement. "Two…you…I…we don't…" she waved her hand out in front of her.

"Sex." He said simply and enjoyed as the red spread on Molly's cheeks. "You don't want to have sex with me."

"I do!" She shouted and held up her hands. Sherlock let his smile spread across his face. "That's not what I meant." She dropped her hands and groaned.

"What do you mean?" He asked as he stood up and walked to her. She scrunched up her face thinking and took his hand when he held it out to her. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable." He guided her to the couch and continued to hold her hand. She droped her gaze to the floor again.

"Rule two, if sex is to be included in this arrangement, we need to talk about it. We need to talk about the boundaries, about the where and when, about the protection, and about…" She lifted her eyes to his again. "What it means for us."

Sherlock swallowed hard as her words sunk it. Sex. What it would mean. What would it mean? _What would it mean?_

"Okay." He said as he squeezed her hand.

"Okay…what?" She asked as she turned toward him, pulling her leg up on the couch.

"We will talk when we need to talk." He started to lean in into her.

"So you see us needed to talk about this is the future?" She raised an eyebrow at him, stopping his movements.

"No." Molly frowned deeply. "Yes." She gave him a smile. "I don't know." She laughed at him.

"Why don't we just agree on the rules and move on for now?" She brushed a curl out of his eyes.

"Thank you." He kissed her in relief.


	5. The Slow Walk Downhill

_7? – Sherlock_

_My flat or yours? – Molly_

_Yours. – Sherlock_

_Donovan discovered the origin of the tattoo. – Lestrade_

_Sherlock, did you get my message? – Lestrade_

_SHERLOCK? – Lestrade_

_Yes. – SH_

"What are you frowning at?" John asked as they rode the lift to the lab. Sherlock looked at him for a moment before pocketing his mobile.

"Nothing."

"So you and Molly have been spending a lot of time together." John said as he crossed his arms. Sherlock merely cleared his throat and stepped out of the lift. "Should I tell Mary to invite you two for dinner?"

Sherlock walked through the lab door and let it hit John in the face.

"Thank you." John said through clenched teeth as Sherlock tossed his coat across the lab table.

He unbuttoned his jacket as he sat down at the microscope and reached for a box of slides that had _Sherlock_ written on it in Molly's hand.

"You know, if you are going to treat her like your girlfriend, then you should act like she is your girlfriend." John sat down and started working on writing up the last case on his phone.

"I am unsure of what you are referring to." He said as he adjusted the scope. John sighed and let silence settle between them.

Sherlock's head shot up as the door opened. His eyes lit up and John could tell he was controlling a smile as Molly walked through the door.

"I see you got the slides I left for you." She smiled and dropped a stack of files on the table.

"Yes, thank you." He nodded and finally smiled back.

"Do either of you need anything? I have to go grab another stack of files." Sherlock asked for a coffee before Molly disappeared out of the lab again.

"Be careful Sherlock, otherwise your face will get stuck like that." John snickered and Sherlock frowned at him.

"What are you babbling about?" John looked up at Sherlock's words.

"Your face might just get used to a smile yet." He glared at John and went back to his slides. "Courtship suits you."

Sherlock clenched his fists and flattened them on the counter.

"We are not dating." John just shrugged at his words and waited for Molly to come back.

This time she was accompanied by a lab assistant who was chatting happily about going to the pub. Molly quietly handed Sherlock the cup of coffee with a small smile which he didn't return.

"Good morning Dr. Watson." The lab assistant said as he set down more files for Molly.

"Jimmy." John nodded to the younger man.

"Molly, what do you say to joining us tonight?" Jimmy asked as he stood by the door.

"Oh…umm." Molly looked quickly between Sherlock and Jimmy.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows as Molly tried to let him down nicely. John smirked and caught Sherlock's eye, he frowned back.

"Molly, you should go." Sherlock blurted out. She looked at him, slightly stunned. Only twenty minutes ago had they made plans for the evening – Sherlock himself initiating the plans.

"Oh, but I had – "Molly started.

"You would have fun." He said shortly. Her face fell, but she recovered with a smile and agreed to join Jimmy and his friends for a drink after work.

* * *

Sherlock lay in bed on his back, with his legs stretched out straight, staring at the ceiling. He was still as a corpse as the clock ticked loudly over his head.

He lunged at the bedside table when his mobile pinged, but only threw it back down when he saw it was a text from John.

"Stupid." He muttered to himself. "So stupid." He could have spent the evening with Molly. She would have made him tea and put out the little biscuits that she makes. He would have complained about her choice in movie, but in the end it wouldn't have mattered because they wouldn't end up watching it anyways.

He didn't like it when his hands were still and would have run them through Molly's long hair. Once he had detangled every strand he would have moved on to her shoulders, releasing the tension – Molly simply leaning into his touch. He would have –

"Fool." He reprimanded himself for letting his mind wander to senseless things. He stood up and straightened his suit jacket. "I have things to do." He grabbed his coat and fled down the stairs.

* * *

"File." Sherlock shoved his hand in Lestrade's face.

"I see you did get my text." Lestrade said with a sigh, ignoring Sherlock's request, and returned to his paperwork.

"I responded, did I not?" Lestrade grunted in response. "File."

"You are not getting the file." He said closing the one he was currently working on. Sherlock blinked down at him for a moment and then shook his hand again.

"I need that file." Sherlock said through clenched teeth. Lestrade rubbed his brow, wanting to go home and not deal with the consulting detective. He started down at the desk and slowly brought his head up to look at Sherlock.

"Oh." Lestrade smiled. "Oh, I get it." Sherlock squinted at him. "Miss Hooper is out for the night and you need something to occupy your mind."

"File." He practically growled. "Please." He added, still just as vile.

Lestrade studied him for a minute before shrugging and pulling the file out of his desk.

"Here." He stood up and handed Sherlock the file. "We have all been there." He said as he pulled on his coat and ushered Sherlock out of his office.

"Been where?"

"In love."

* * *

Sherlock sat in the middle of the living room floor pouring over the pages of the file again and again. The living room was covered with articles from the internet that he had printed off and the one wall was again covered in pictures, string, and tape.

He was completely consumed by his thought process that he didn't notice Molly until she was standing next to him, her calf settled against his arm.

"Four days."

He looked up at her. She didn't sound mad but Sherlock could tell she was upset.

"Have you been locked away in here for four days?"

He rubbed the back of his head and looked at his watch. He had, remembering that Mrs. Hudson had indeed been in and out four times with tea and biscuits.

"Yes." He heard her sigh and looked back up to see her purse her lips, thinking about what to say next.

"Get up. Take a shower. I will organize this mess…and then maybe we can get somewhere with this case."

He stood and smiled at her. He leaned over to kiss her cheek, but she stopped him as she wrinkled her nose.

"You need a looong soak." She stepped back from him. "Go." She shooed him away.


End file.
